


Warm

by draculard



Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [10]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temperature Difference, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: The difference in their body temperatures is probably Thrawn's favorite thing, especially on days like this.
Relationships: Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo
Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904581
Kudos: 43





	Warm

The quarters were dark when Pellaeon finished his shift. He frowned as he walked in, pulling his tunic off as he explored each room; he hadn’t heard from Thrawn all day, and at first he’d assumed the other man was in his command room, but now…

Moving to the bedroom, he cracked the door open and glanced inside. It was so dark that it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust; he relaxed a little, but only marginally, when he made out a vague lump under the covers on the bed.

“Thrawn?” he said.

From the bed, there came a sharp hiss. Pellaeon understood immediately; he toed his shoes off where he stood, careful not to clack the heels against the floor, and came inside without closing the door behind him. Moving as quietly as he could, he approached the bed and sat — gingerly, gently — on the edge of it.

He pulled the blanket off Thrawn’s face, then pulled the other man’s hand away from his eyes. Scowling, Thrawn cracked open one eye to look at him.

_Migraine?_ Pellaeon mouthed.

Scowling even harder, Thrawn closed his eyes again and gave a pained, minuscule nod. Pellaeon smiled in the dark; he pulled the black glove off his right hand and flexed his fingers, lying his palm flat against Thrawn’s eyes. 

His skin was hot; Thrawn’s was as cold as ice. Briefly, as the warmth from his palm seeped into Thrawn’s skin, Pellaeon wondered how long he had been like this — knowing there was a solution and yet too proud to comm the bridge for help. He felt Thrawn lean into the touch, his hand coming up to press Pellaeon’s closer; gradually, he felt Thrawn start to warm up beneath him, radiating Pellaeon’s body heat back at him.

They stayed like that, silent and unmoving, for the next half hour, with Pellaeon careful not to make a single noise. After a while, Thrawn grasped Pellaeon’s hand and curled the fingers in, pressing the other man’s knuckles against each of his temples in turn. Pellaeon watched, saying nothing; he hid a smile when Thrawn manipulated his hand again, this time resting the palm flat against his cold cheek with a sigh. 

“Feeling better?” Pellaeon asked, barely even mouthing the words. Thrawn moved Pellaeon’s hand down to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly, almost as an afterthought. He kept Pellaeon's hand pressed against his lips afterward, relishing the gentle touch the way he always seemed to — the way he probably always would, since his exile.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Thank you, Gilad.”


End file.
